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Wu walks into the restaurant where they’re getting brunch wearing a shirt that’s far too familiar to Mako. It’s his, he’s sure of it. It’s a dark red heather, and it’s at least two sizes too big for Wu, who Mako’s grandma always says is too thin.
That’s Mako’s favorite T-shirt. He lent it to Wu the other night when everyone stayed over a little too late and didn’t want to go home. Wu, being Wu, refused to sleep in his clothes and instead ended up in Mako’s shirt and sweatpants. He’d looked cute then, drowning in the too-big clothing.
He looks great now, despite the size. He tied up the bottom so it’s shorter, and shows just a bit of skin over his jeans.
He knew Wu had taken the shirt. He just didn’t expect to see Wu wearing it.
Honestly, he’d expected Wu to find it in six months, get it professionally dry-cleaned, and then return it with some lavish apology card, not wear it later that week like he’s borrowing his boyfriend’s clothes and showing them off.
It’s not like they’re dating or anything.
Not that Mako would be opposed.
Wu wearing the shirt is much harder to deal with, especially because Wu immediately squishes down next to him in the round booth to make way for Korra and Asami trailing behind him, which means Mako’s basically plastered against Wu’s side with his heart in his throat.
Wu flashes Mako a grin, “hey, big guy. I didn’t think we’d actually get you to come to brunch!”
It’s a little hard to think of anything to say in the face of that smile, the familiar red against Wu’s skin, but Mako manages, somehow. He’s getting good at this. “Brunch is still nonsense. Blame Bolin. You do this every week?”
“Pretty much,” Wu laughs, his side plastered against Mako’s in the tight booth. “It’s a tradition! What else is there to do on a Sunday morning?”
“Literally anything else,” Mako says dryly. Wu smells like fancy soap, a little woody, something that sticks with Mako. He’s turning a bit to make more space for Wu before he quite realizes it. “Go for a run. Read a book. Anything besides shoving yourself into a packed restaurant to eat overpriced, unhealthy food and day-drink.”
“Mm, but I’d rather eat unhealthy food with my friends,” Wu teases, his eyes bright.
He turns back to the rest of the group with a loud laugh at something Bolin said.
Bolin, at least, can carry the conversation here, which means Mako is free so sit there and drink the mocha he let himself order to make up for coming here in the first place, and try not to look at Wu wearing his shirt like he slept over last night.
So, of course, Korra eventually squints at Wu over her eggs and says, “Isn’t that Mako’s shirt?”
“Oh, this?” Wu smiles smugly. “Yeah. I stole it. It’s so soft!” He wiggles his shoulders a little in the shirt.
The heat in Mako’s cheeks is certainly not helping. He watches Asami’s brows fly up, her gaze darting between the two of them.
“Oh,” she says after a moment, too delicate. “We didn’t know.”
“What?” Wu blinks at her, then snorts a laugh. “Oh, oh no. From when we all stayed over! Mako and I aren’t. No. Of course not!”
Of course not, he says, like it’s completely out of the realm of possibility that he and Wu would ever actually date. Mako’s face is burning. He hides the redness behind a sip of his mocha, and it doesn’t work because now Korra is staring at him, too, a grin slowly growing on her face.
“Yeah,” she says, and a foot nudges Mako’s under the table, “can you imagine? They’d kill each other.”
“Well, yeah,” Wu agrees, and his eyes flick to Mako, a small smile on his face, “we’re just friends. Right, buddy?” He elbows Mako lightly in the side.
Mako is definitively not just Wu’s friend.
It’s something he’s known for a while. Since shortly after meeting Wu, actually, when it became clear that the annoyance he thought he’d felt was something a lot more. Wu wormed his way so quickly into Mako’s thoughts and then stayed there: the sharp jut of his collarbone, his narrow hips, his stupid smile.
He hasn’t told anybody. It doesn’t seem relevant, Mako tells himself, and it doesn’t change anything, and anyway he’s too busy with work to actually date, so it doesn’t come up.
Everyone is look at him. Mako realizes with another flash of heat in his face, and wonders if it’s possible to get hot enough to just melt into the booth below him.
“Uh,” he says, scrambling to remember Wu’s words. “Yeah. Friends.”
Wu drapes an arm around Mako’s shoulders, patting his chest gently. He’s very close and very warm. “Good friends.”
“Uh huh,” Korra says, still eying Mako.
It’s like she can see right through him. Mako makes himself hold her gaze, trying his best to look unaffected and not like every nerve ending in his body is aware of Wu and their many points of contact.
Given the way she narrows her eyes, it’s not working.
Mako swallows and shifts, just a bit, away from Wu. “I do want the shirt back.”
“Mm, okay,” Wu says in a way that makes Mako sure that he’s never getting the shirt back. He grins at Mako and squeezes his shoulders.
It’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
Mako narrows his eyes. “I’m serious. You critique my wardrobe and then take one of the few shirts you approve of?”
“Fair point,” Wu hums softly, “well, we’ll see.”
Slowly, his arm slips back into his own lap and he turns back to his (very unhealthy) meal.
Mako does not get the shirt back.
It seems to have become a favorite of Wu’s, actually, because Mako sees it on him at least three more times as spring turns into a sticky, too-hot summer. It settles in a haze over Republic City, and Wu brings him and Bolin out to a club and wears the t-shirt like a dress with tiny shorts underneath.
Then he drags Mako to the beach with everyone, ties it up around his ribs, and Mako is so distracted by all that skin in the sun and water sparkling on Wu’s cheeks that Wu and Bolin manage to half-bury him in the sand.
He wears it to a karaoke night, tucked into tight jeans, and tries his hardest to convince Mako to sing a duet with him. He doesn’t succeed, but he stays close to Mako, pressed against his side, his face flushed and smiling.
It doesn’t end there, either. As the weather starts to get colder, Mako sees the shirt layered under Wu’s too many sweaters.
Mako doesn’t ask for it back again. Wu clearly likes it better than Mako ever did, and Mako likes, in a a messed-up sort of way, seeing the flash of familiar burgundy against his skin. Wu probably doesn’t think about Mako every time he wears the damn thing, but Mako keeps imagining that anyway.
And then the meteor shower happens.
Or, really, everyone else bails on the one thing Mako drags them to each year, which is the Fire Meteor Shower marking the official end of summer.
Bolin and Opal are on some mini-vacation together, which can only end badly, and Korra and Asami are exhausted, which is their own fault for both going back to school, which leaves just Wu. Wu, who has never been the most enthusiastic about this, and who last year went only because Korra bribed him with hot chocolate.
Mako’s fine to go alone, really, but he texts Wu anyway. Just to check.
Looks like it’s just us for the meteor shower. If you’re in, I’m going to drive up soon. If you’re not, don’t worry about it.
Wu, always attached to his phone, responds almost immediately: I’m coming!!!
Wu: I can’t believe everyone else ditched
Wu: So rude
Wu: Are you bringing hot chocolate?
Mako snorts to himself and snaps a picture of the pot on his stove, almost at a simmer, to send over.
Mako: Adding something extra this year. It’s supposed to get really cold. Bring a blanket if you have one you like.
Wu: You’re the best!! 🥰
Wu: How cold??? I’ll bring a blanket and a sweater
Mako really is in over his head if a single emoji makes his heart thud like this. He has to put his phone down for a second, stir the hot chocolate while he remembers that Wu flirts like this with everyone, and that Wu is definitively not interested.
Mako: Below freezing. It’ll be worth it. This is supposed to be the best shower in the last 50 years.
Wu: Awesome!!!!!!!
Wu: You and me, buddy. We’ll take lots of pictures and everyone else will regret not being there with us!!!
Mako smiles, useless, down at his pot.
Mako: I’ll pick you up in half an hour.
Which really means an hour, because he knows how long it takes Wu to get ready.
When he does show up about an hour later, miraculously Wu is ready in an oversized sweater with a tote bag over his shoulder. He’s already shivering and practically leaps into Mako’s car. “You weren’t kidding! It’s so cold.”
“Feels like 10 degrees,” Mako informs him with a small smile. Wu’s nose and cheeks are chafed pink. Peeking out from under the sweater is a hint of maroon. As soon as Wu has the door shut Mako presses a thermos into his hands. “You gonna make it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” Wu shudders, pulling the thermos close to his face. “I’m not ready for this yet! It’s not even October!”
“Means it’s just going to get colder,” Mako tells him, grinning. “You probably need an actual winter coat this year.”
“No,” Wu whines, pulling his knees up to his chest. Mako doesn’t bother telling him that it’s dangerous to sit like that in a car, because Wu never listens to that advice. “Winter is the worst!”
Snorting, Mako flicks up the heat a few degrees as he pulls out of Wu’s fancy street. It’s a longer trek from here to the mountains outside the city, but the spot Mako found this year should make it all worth it.
“You’re not wrong,” he says, “but you can prepare for it. Nobody looks hot in winter. Everyone looks like marshmallows. You’re fine.”
“You know me so well,” Wu says blandly, but he grins at Mako.
Mako very carefully keeps his eyes on the road, awareness swirling through him. “You make it pretty easy.”
“To know me?” Wu asks with a soft laugh.
“Yeah,” Mako says quietly. “You don’t exactly hide who you are,” finally, he glances over at Wu, watching the golden glow of streetlights line his hair, “not anymore.”
Wu’s face is soft, and he smiles just a little. “Yeah? I… thanks. Mako. That means a lot, from you.”
Mako has to look away again for his own sanity. “Why from me? Because I’m the judgiest friend?”
“Well, yeah,” Wu laughs, “but you’re also… I dunno. You know who you are. I think that’s really cool.”
Maybe bringing Wu and only Wu was a terrible idea. Mako’s face is already hot. “You think so? I don’t know if I do.”
“Yeah?” Wu asks. Mako can feel Wu watching him intently. “You seem so, so assured, all the time.”
“Well, yeah, anyone can act like they know what they’re doing,” Mako snorts. “That’s all it is. I mean—I do know what I’m doing, most of the time. But I don’t think that’s the same thing as knowing who you are. You,” he hesitates, glancing sideways, “you seem like the opposite.”
“What? I seem like I know who I am, but not what I’m doing?” Wu’s laughter fills the car. “I guess that’s pretty true. I wish I knew what I was doing half the time!”
“There’s this thing called the internet,” Mako suggests with a grin, “you can look stuff up. Figure it out before you just dive in.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Wu snorts, “maybe you figure things out for me. Then we both win.”
“Not going to happen,” Mako laughs, and lets Wu reach forward to shift the radio into the sugary Top 40 stuff he likes to listen to all the time.
It takes about 45 minutes just to get out of the city and up into the mountains, and Wu talks through most of it, which is—kind of nice. Mako thought it might be weird, just the two of them, but Wu’s acting the same as he always does, reaching over to poke at Mako’s shoulder and teasing him about his lack of hobbies.
“Maybe you just have too many,” Mako shoots back at one point, fighting a smile.
“Excuse you,” Wu laughs, “I have the right amount of hobbies, thank you very much.”
“12 is too many,” Mako says, and then Wu is nudging at him with one elbow across the seat divide.
He gets quiet as soon as they hit the hairpins that actually take them up in elevation.
“You’re gonna be fine,” Mako tells him, but Wu’s hand lands on his knee and stays there, squeezing hard while he talks like he’s not scared at all.
They pass a few spots with cars pulled over, halfway up the mountain, but Mako keeps going. It’s a new moon tonight, so the only light is from his headlights. Finally, Mako pulls off onto crunching gravel—Wu’s fingers tighten even further—and flips off the lights, letting the car settle around them.
It’s a little pull-out spot, tucked away on the back half of the mountain, facing away from the city. The dark shapes of the rest of the range roll away toward the horizon, dark shadows compared to the glittering sky.
Wu lets out an audible breath and looks at Mako in the yellow overhead light. “We’re here?”
“You can stop panicking,” Mako says dryly. “Didn’t drive us off the mountain.”
“We’re still on a mountain,” Wu retorts, but slowly he lets go of Mako, sliding back into his seat.
Mako is really trying not to laugh, but it’s not working as well as he’d like, based on the dirty look Wu shoots him. “Sorry—you’re fine, you’re not gonna fall off a cliff, and we’re watching from the hood. It’s safe. I promise.”
“Okay,” Wu says warily, but he pulls off the blanket he’s been bundled in for half the journey. “Is there more hot chocolate?”
Biting down on a grin, Mako reaches behind himself to pull out another thermos. “This one has brandy and cayenne in it. Should keep you a lot warmer. C’mon, help me set up.”
“Brandy! You sure know how to treat a guy,” Wu laughs brightly and slips out of the car, only to yelp. “It’s so cold! How is it colder up here?!”
“We’re farther from sea level,” Mako says absently. He brought enough blankets for probably an army, and is being more sensible than Wu, who is definitely just in his sweater and not even a proper winter coat. He has to lean into the back seat to grab them all, comes out with a massive bundle in his arms. “Something about weather science, I don’t know. You’re the one with the fancy education.”
“I didn’t study science,” Wu mutters, trodding to the front of the car. He gently drops a hand to the hood, then moans, “oh it’s warm!”
“Wait, it’s gonna get even warmer. Heads up,” Mako bites down on a laugh and tosses him the thickest blanket. Or, tries to.
The blanket hits Wu in the face and he bursts into a laugh as it slips down into his arms. “Mako!”
He tosses half of it back, covering some of the hood. “You’re supposed to be good at that!”
“Be better at catching,” Mako laughs as he snags the corner to drag it across. “That was a perfect throw.”
“You threw it at my face,” Wu retorts. He climbs awkwardly onto the hood and falls back on the blanket. His mouth falls slack. “Wow. That’s beautiful.”
Mako shoves an old pillow onto the windshield, and then another, and then finally climbs up after him with the thermos of hot chocolate jammed awkwardly into his elbow. The hood creaks in protest beneath them but it’s an old car, it’s dealt with worse.
“This is really beautiful,” Wu says again, softly, and he glances over at Mako.
Mako glances back, his breath catching. He can barely see Wu in the darkness, but his eyes are adjusting, and Wu’s eyes are ridiculously green even like this.
He’s also still shivering. Mako presses a bit closer and lifts up his edge of another blanket. “Here. This should keep you warmer. They, uh, haven’t even really gotten started yet. Wait until your eyes adjust.”
“They get prettier?” Wu gasps. He huddles closer to Mako’s side under the blanket and Mako can feel his body shuddering. “I never get to see the stars in the city.”
He’s clearly still cold. Mako frowns and shifts more of the blanket toward him, then grabs for the last one to put over both of their laps. “Yeah, me neither. This is the one time I actually get to. You know. See them. Don’t make the time to come up here, otherwise.”
“Maybe we should,” Wu says, and then his head drops to Mako’s shoulder with a soft sigh as he watches the stars. “This is nice. Cold, but nice.”
He does stuff like this all the time, Mako reminds himself, even though the warm weight of Wu’s head and the soft brush of his hat has eclipsed every other sensation. He isn’t even really looking at the meteors burning high above them. Instead his head is a loop track of Wu is touching you and don’t make this weird and should I do something about the cold over and over again like an old tape getting stuck.
“You’re still shivering,” he says a moment later, his voice a bit thick. “Should’ve worn that coat.”
“Probably,” Wu laughs a little, and then, somehow, he’s closer, his fingers slipping under the hem of Mako’s shirt, his frigid fingers pressing against his skin. “You can keep me warm.”
Mako’s breath freezes somewhere in his lungs, laughter escaping without his consent as Wu presses closer. “How are you so cold,” he laughs, a little dizzy, because Wu’s palm has gone flat against Mako’s stomach.
“It’s cold out here!” Wu whines, and after a moment trying to get even closer to Mako, he settles down with a sigh. He’s so close. Mako can smell his soap like this, the faint clean scent of him.
He hopes Wu can’t hear his heart racing.
“Why’d you agree if you hate the cold so much?” he asks, soft, as the quiet settles around them. It’s a still night, without the harsh wind usually running over the mountains, and the only other sound is the soft whisper of trees.
“It was nice last year,” Wu admits quietly, “and I didn’t want you to come alone.”
Mako can’t read into that, even if his stomach is a twisting mess of nerves of feeling.
“I’d’ve been okay alone,” he says, and then realizes it sounds like he doesn’t want Wu to be there and adds, a little too quick, “but I’m glad you are here.”
And that sounded a little too close to the truth, so Mako swallows and says before Wu can think too much about it, “If we lay back we’ll get a better view.’
“Okay,” Wu murmurs, but even when they lie down, Wu stays close to his side. Because of the cold, Mako tells himself again.
Wu sighs, and is quiet for a long moment before he says, “this would be a really romantic date.”
Mako’s heart lodges itself somewhere in his throat.
That, he tells himself, is why his voice comes out sort of strangled when he says, “What?”
“This would be really romantic,” Wu says again. “You could bring someone you like up here to watch the stars like this.”
His hand is still under Mako’s shirt.
It’s warmer now, and Mako can feel the press of his fingertips every time he drags in a breath. When he turns his face, Wu is right there, all huge green eyes and a little wistful kind of smile, and Mako, suddenly, can’t look away.
“Uh,” he says, breathless, “yeah. That would be—yes.”
Wu meets his eyes, “you ever done that? Brought somebody here?”
“Not on purpose,” Mako says without fully thinking. He’s too trapped to think, he can feel the soft damp puff of Wu’s breath on his face because they’re so close.
Wu laughs at that, but his laughter quickly falters. “Who… who did you bring?”
You, Mako almost says. The stars are, very slightly, reflected in Wu’s eyes, and Mako doesn’t normally go for that kind of thing, but Wu’s right: this is very romantic, and was an awful idea. Mako’s heart is thundering against his ribs.
“Mako,” Wu says softly, and somehow he’s even closer, lips so close to Mako’s. He can feel the puff of Wu’s breath.
It would be so easy to lean over and kiss him.
But Wu’s words echo still in his head—just friends—and Mako swallows and looks very pointedly back at the sky, hoping Wu writes off the redness of his face to the chill. “Look—” he says, too quick, rough, “it’s really starting.”
He can feel Wu’s eyes on him for another moment, but he stays looking resolutely away, up at the tiny streaks of light overhead. They make the whole sky sparkle. He never got to see things like this as a kid: Republic City has too much light, too much noise, too many buildings. It felt like a trap until he’d gotten that car, realized he could get away.
From up here, he’d realized then, the city looks a lot like those stars. It was easier to bear with an escape route. And Mako doesn’t know where else he would go: his life is here, and his friends are here, and Wu is here.
Finally, Wu looks up and gasps. “Whoa! That's amazing!”
Mako’s heart slams into his own ribs again. “Yeah. Bo and I, when we got our first car—this was something he always wanted to do. He used to talk about stars all the time because we couldn’t see them.”
“I guess you’ve had the car for long enough now, he’s over it,” Wu murmurs, and his fingers slip further up Mako’s stomach. “I never really thought about it, watching the stars. Maybe I should have.”
Mako shifts up just enough to look at him. “You never thought about it. Really?”
Wu shakes his head, glancing over at Mako. “Not really. Guess I’m too interested in people to look up.”
“Well, that’s your problem,” Mako says a little breathlessly. “You need to think most people aren’t worth your time.”
“That’s not very nice,” Wu laughs, and his eyes flick over Mako’s face. Mako can see the stars reflected in his eyes.
Mako is caught all over again. “I never said I was nice.”
“No,” Wu murmurs, and he’s painfully close, his words soft between them, “but I think you’re worth my time anyways.”
No way, Mako thinks, his heart stuck in his throat. He has to tilt his head, has to see more of Wu’s face to read the tone behind those words, because Wu doesn’t talk to him like this. He teases Mako and drapes arms around his shoulders and steals his shirt but nothing like this. Not soft and serious, with his lips slightly parted and his cheeks pink.
“Wu,” he says, and doesn’t know where he’s going with it. His words are thick on his tongue.
Wu shifts up on his elbow, hair falling over his forehead. “I…” he breathes, but instead of going on, he leans in, his lips pressing softly to Mako’s.
Mako’s thoughts stop entirely.
It’s a new feeling for him.
He can feel the press of the hood under his arm and the firm pressure of Wu’s lips, and Wu’s hand still braced on his skin, but it takes him a moment to actually put all those pieces together into a whole: Wu is kissing him.
And Mako is completely still and Wu’s starting to pull away.
With a soft gasp, he leans up, curling his hand around the back of Wu’s head to keep him there. Wu sighs, melting against him. His hand curls around Mako’s hip, thighs pressing to Mako’s, his lips hot and pressing against him.
Mako’s head is still empty, still spinning, but Wu tastes like hot chocolate and brandy and it’s all Mako can do not to just yank him closer, kiss him like he’s wanted to for months. He manages for about two seconds, and then Wu makes a small sound against his mouth and Mako breaks, pulling him down.
It’s better than he would have thought. Maybe it’s the months of wanting, maybe it’s how warm Wu is against the cold, maybe it’s the romance of the meteors shooting overhead.
Maybe it’s just Wu.
Wu, who kisses Mako like he wants this as much as Mako does. Who huddles close and trails fingers along his skin and who came with Mako tonight when everyone else ditched on him. Who’s been wearing his shirt for months.
Realization crashes through Mako, cold and sharp and clear, and he half-jerks back, his breathing fast. “Wait,” he says, quickly, searching Wu’s face, “you said we were friends.”
Wu blinks at him, a little hazy. “Huh? We are friends.”
“No,” Mako’s hand is still fisted in his shirt. His own shirt, and Wu’s sweater, soft and oversized. He swallows around the pounding of his heart, tries again. “Just friends.”
“Oh,” Wu breathes. He’s still close, too close, “I said that? I guess I… changed my mind.”
His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are sort of hazy and Mako has thought about this, has felt terrible for thinking about it, and now Wu is in front of him with his lips slightly parted and Mako has no idea what to do about it.
Except bite down on the little noise of helpless frustration and ask, “When?”
“I don’t know, Mako!” Wu laughs, pushing at him. “What’s this about? Are you, if you don’t want to make out, we can just be friends.”
“No,” Mako says too-quickly, jolting up on his elbow. “No, I definitely. Want to, I’m just—I’ve been wanting to.” For months, he almost says, but Wu doesn’t need to know exactly how far this has gone, exactly how much space he takes up in Mako’s life.
“Okay,” Wu watches him for a moment, biting his lip. “Me too. I like you, Mako. And I’m pretty sure you like me too.”
Mako doesn’t know whether he’s embarrassed or relieved or thrilled, exactly, but he’s something. He can’t look away. “Is it obvious?”
“No,” Wu’s lips quirk in a smile, “but I think I know you well enough by now.” Wu presses closer to him, his hand slipping up Mako’s waist under his shirt, “and you have a bad habit of kissing your friends, so I had a 50/50 shot.”
“You—” Mako starts, and then Wu is grinning wider and his palm is flat and warm against Mako’s skin, so Mako bites down on a strangled sound and yanks him down into another kiss.
A few weeks later, weeks of kisses and hangouts that turn into dates and Mako staying over at Wu’s too-fancy apartment and waking up early to see the soft morning sun playing over Wu’s face, Wu finally drags Mako back to brunch. Maybe it’s because of this thing they have going on. Maybe it’s because Wu was busy for the last few days and Mako hasn’t seen him. Or maybe it’s because he actually enjoys the pancakes that he can get at Wu’s preferred brunch spot.
Last night, Mako left Wu with his jacket, because Wu was still shivering when they got back into the car. He didn’t give it back when he kissed Mako softly before eliciting a promise from Mako that he would be at brunch.
Everyone else is here already, and Wu is late, but just as Mako is about to check his phone to see if Wu texted him, Wu walks into the restaurant. He’s in Mako’s jacket, which Mako lent after the night of the meteor shower because Wu was still shivering when they got back into the car. The jacket hangs large and loose around his shoulders. He slips into the booth next to Mako, his hand slipping down over Mako’s under the table with a quick smile.
He’s wearing the damn shirt, too.
“You’re just flaunting it now,” Mako tells him as soon as he settles, leaning close enough so that Wu can hear him under the chatter in here.
The jacket is way too big on him, but it looks good like everything else: comfortably oversized, maybe. He can get a new jacket.
“So?” Wu shoots him a toothy grin. “I like your clothes.”
“You also like your clothes,” Mako mumbles, but he can’t really be too mad, because Wu looks better in it than he does and also because Wu’s hand has slid up to rest on his thigh.
“Yes, but it’s more fun to steal my boyfriend’s clothes,” Wu tells him, leaning in close, like he’s going to kiss Mako.
“Your what now?” Korra asks, watching them with a quirking smile on her lips.
“Yeah,” Mako echoes weakly, “your, uh. Boyfriend, huh?”
“What?” Wu pouts at him, but Mako can see something behind the expression. Like he might actually be worried. “Are you not my boyfriend?”
“When did this happen?” Bolin gasps through a mouthful of pancake.
“I didn’t know I was your boyfriend,” Mako says carefully, ignoring Bolin’s flurry of follow-up questions. “But I can be.”
“Well,” Wu starts haughtily, his eyes flicking over Mako’s face, “you’re already my boyfriend. I guess it’s up to you if I’m yours.”
He looks so huffy about it, so actually worried, that Mako has to lean forward and kiss him properly even though all of their friends are watching him and they haven’t actually told anybody about this yet. With a little sigh, Wu melts against him, kissing him back slow and sweet.
It’s a nice moment, until it’s broken by Korra wolf whistling at them.
Mako shoots her a glare, but there’s very little heat to it. “Okay,” he says, as Asami wiggles her eyebrows, “Wu’s my boyfriend, it happened during the meteor shower, I will be getting my jacket back. No further questions."
“Mm, yes, yes, and no,” Wu tells him with a laugh, pressing into his side.
Wu happily flaunts Mako’s shirt, jacket, and a beanie he steals a few months later.
Mako never does get his shirt back.